


Don't Put Out the Glow

by backonefish



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Just a whole bunch of fluff and smut, M/M, Masturbation, Minor Zayn Malik/Liam Payne, Panties, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-18
Updated: 2017-10-18
Packaged: 2019-01-18 22:15:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12397329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/backonefish/pseuds/backonefish
Summary: "He fists out a pair of skinny jeans and a plain black tee. Nothing wrong there. Then he sees an atrocious Hawaiian shirt in Zayn’s hand and he starts digging through the bag urgently, pulling out more and more items that don’t belong to him"Or: The one where Louis picks up the wrong bag on his way to Paris.





	Don't Put Out the Glow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dimpled_halo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dimpled_halo/gifts).



> Thank you to my wonderful beta [fallinglikeafoolforyou](http://fallinglikeafoolforyou.tumblr.com/) who worked with my ridiculous schedule. You're amazing! 
> 
> And thank you for the wonderful prompt!! I had an absolute blast writing for it! Here is the original:  
> Harry and Louis are both traveling and their luggage gets mixed up at the airport. They don't realize it's a mix up until one of them opens the suitcase and finds some questionable things.

There’s an annoying noise that’s penetrating his consciousness. He doesn’t like noises. Especially unwanted ones. It can fuck off, thank you very much.    
  
A nice dream later, involving sunny skies and stretches of green fields, there’s another annoying noise, that’s somehow louder than the one before and even more insistent. To the one percent of Louis’ brain that is slightly awake, it sounds angry.    
  
"Louis William Tomlinson!"   
  
His name is followed by explosive bangs and Louis fears his door is going to fly off its hinges. Or his neighbours will kick him out. He doesn’t get much time to contemplate which outcome would be worse because his bedroom door bursts open and an angry and exasperated Zayn and Liam barge in.    
  
"For fucks sake, Lou," Zayn berates, stripping the covers off Louis and physically pulling him off the bed. "We literally have half an hour."   
  
"No," Louis whines, resisting Zayn’s pull and clinging onto his headboard. "I set the alarm for two hours before so I could pack."   
  
"You haven’t packed?" Liam shrieks. Then he’s frantically opening drawers and cupboards, shoving everything and anything he can find into a duffel bag on the floor.    
  
"You hit snooze ten times, you wanker," Zayn throws Louis’ phone at him.   
  
"Hey," Louis rubs his hip, smarting from the impact. Huh, so that explains the noises he slept through.    
  
"LOUIS" they yell at him again.    
  
"Getting up!"   
  
\---   
  
They make it to the train with five minutes to spare, dodging people and luggage, and flinging themselves through the doors. There are only two luggage spots available above their seats which Zayn and Liam bag, leaving Louis to venture into another compartment to find a space for his duffel bag. He grumbles about it for five minutes until Zayn kicks him. In retaliation, he closes his eyes and settles his head against the window.   
  
"How can you possibly be taking a nap right now?" Liam pokes him.    
  
Louis wonders why he’s taking a trip with these insufferable people. He crosses his arms and puts his headphones in. There. That should send them a message.    
  
Liam pulls out an earbud, shoving his face into Louis space. His eyes are wide, bottom lip sticking out in a pout. Fuck, he’s an actual puppy.    
  
"What?" Louis sighs.   
  
"Zayn and I bookmarked some of the booths we want to stop by. And here’s a list of what you have to do."   
  
Louis begrudgingly takes the paper Liam is offering, now all business like. He scans the list, noting at least five different florists, about a dozen musicians, and then his eyes glaze over.    
  
Liam is evil, is the thing. Reels you in with innocent eyes and wide smiles and then - bam. Next thing you know, you’re stuck doing his dirty work. That’s how he got Louis to agree to be their best man. And to come on this trip: largest wedding convention in Europe, held in the city of love.    
  
"When do we get to explore Paris?" Louis asks. He’s hoping something fun happens this weekend and not just a plethora of wedding related events.   
  
Liam narrows his eyes at him, voice icy. "Is exploring Paris really more important than our wedding?"   
  
"Um..." Louis turns pleading eyes to Zayn.   
  
"Don’t worry, bro," Zayn leans in to whisper. "We'll do some fun stuff. Just need to get Li drunk first. Leave it to me.” 

  
Louis pats his knee. He can always count on Zayn. 

 

\---

  
Louis flops on the bed, moaning as his aching bones sink into the mattress. The minute they’d reached the hotel, Liam had ushered them to the convention below and then dragged them to every single flower and photography booth available. After hours of perusing through flowers in all possible shades of the rainbow, Louis still can’t tell the difference between a daisy and a daffodil. And he’s in charge of the floral arrangements.    
  
He buries his head into a pillow and groans. He needs a shower. Something to wake him up. 

  
\---   
  
"Why," a pillow whacks Louis in the face, "do we always have to wake you up?" Liam hits him again.   
  
"Fuck, stop Li," Louis holds his hands up to fend off the attacks.    
  
"We’re going to be late for our dinner reservations," Liam glares, hitting him once more before abandoning the pillow on the ground.    
  
"But I need to shower," Louis whines, sitting up and dragging his hands over his face. He feels gross and sticky, body still unpleasantly sore.    
  
"Should have thought of that before you decided to take a nap. Honestly Lou, how much do you sleep?"   
  
"Oh fuck off," Louis mumbles. "It’s been busy."   
  
Liam’s face softens and he sidles up to Louis on the bed. "Sorry babe. I know the break up has been tough on you."   
  
Louis pinches his nipple. "It’s been ages. I was referring to the end of the school year, wanker."   
  
Liam ruffles his hair, "Why don’t you freshen up and I’ll tell the restaurant we’ll be a bit late. Zayn will pick an outfit for you. Right, babe?"   
  
They’re answered with a silence. Together, Louis and Liam turn toward Zayn, who’s crouched by Louis’ duffel bag, looking very - well  _ \- confused _ .    
  
"Zayn?" Liam prompts.   
  
"Erm... Li, what did you pack for him?"   
  
"What do you mean?" Louis demands, hurrying off the bed. He  _ knew _ he shouldn’t have trusted Liam with his belongings.   
  
He fists out a pair of skinny jeans and a plain black tee. Nothing wrong there. Then he sees an atrocious Hawaiian shirt in Zayn’s hand and he starts digging through the bag urgently, pulling out more and more items that don’t belong to him: Hawaiian shirts, lace button ups, gold boxers. His hand hits something hard at the bottom and he hysterically upends the bag, watching in horror as a bright pink dildo falls out, along with some handcuffs, a whip, and a sparkling case of different bottles of lube. All brand new and still in their packages, thank god.    
  
"What the fuck?" Louis wails. "This isn’t my stuff."   
  
"There’s no need to lie to us," Zayn smirks, picking up the whip.   
  
"I didn’t pack any of this," Liam says, examining the bottles of lube intently. "Oo, look Zayn, this one tingles."   
  
Louis glares at Liam.  _ Now _ he decides to be calm and collected? He was practically ready to kill Louis ten minutes ago for being late and now he’s taken up by  _ lube _ ? Louis lobs the gold boxers at Liam, hoping they haven't been cleaned, as they land on Liam’s head.    
  
"Where is my stuff?" Louis demands.   
  
"You must have picked up the wrong bag on the train," Liam shrugs. "Cheer up, Lou. It’s an excuse to go shopping."   
  
"As if," Louis scoffs. "I’m not spending money on ridiculously expensive clothes in Paris. I’ll just borrow some of yours.” He shuts the door of the bathroom haughtily, hoping that Liam hadn’t packed anything Louis actually treasured in his now lost bag. 

  
  
\---

  
  
There’s a text from Zayn when he wakes up the next morning. It’s the last thing he reads before his phone battery dies. Apparently, Liam wanted to get an early start but Zayn convinced him to let Louis have a lie in and Louis is to help himself to whatever he needs from their room.    
  
Bless that boy.   
  
He trudges over to their room, tugging on Liam’s borrowed joggers, reaching into its pockets for the key card. When - nothing. He checks the other pockets and comes away the same result.    
  
Fuck. Fuck.  _ Fuck _ . This cannot be happening. He pulls out his phone, ready to get one of them to come back to let him in, when he remembers the dead battery. Fuuuuck. This weekend is going from shit to shittier.  Maybe he can just stay in the hotel room. Go back to sleep and wake up from this nightmare.

Except. 

A tiny part of him, which he hides from Liam, is excited about this. He loves being involved in planning their wedding, loves that they’re taking him along on important trips. Besides, he still needs to determine the difference between a daisy and a daffodil.  He slinks back to his room, ready to admit defeat and spend money on a ridiculous shirt from the gift shop downstairs, when he stubs his toe on the dildo. He picks it up the box, reading the sparkly pink letters, which inform him that the dildo is designed for the male pleasure. He growls, throwing it back into the open bag. It lands on top of a blue Hawaiian shirt.    
  
He stares at the sky blue fabric peeking out and a smirk slowly takes over his features. Maybe he doesn’t have to spend his money just yet.

\---

 

"You’re pulling that off quite well," Niall says, rearranging some massage oils on the display stand.    
  
Harry looks down at his  _ ‘I heart Paris’ _ shirt, the glittery pink lettering matching perfectly with the letters on their booth’s sign. The  _ ‘Up For It?’ _ shines bright, a guiding beacon for the attendees. He giggles. It’s been five years and he still has a good chuckle every time he reads their store name.    
  
"I’m quite fond of it," Harry admits, answering Niall and rolling up the sleeve that came undone. It doesn’t compare to the shirts he meticulously picked out for the weekend, now sadly missing, but it’ll do, especially for something from a hotel gift store.   
  
"Ready?" Niall asks, the chatter of excited couples getting louder as the front doors open.   
  
Yesterday had been a good day for sales and today’s bound to be better. Saturdays are always the busiest.    
  
"Ready."   
  
\---

"Haz, Haz, Haz," Niall tugs persistently at his sleeve, successfully unrolling it.    
  
Harry bats him away, smiling politely at the customers he’s attending to. He finishes ringing up the sale before he rounds on Niall, exasperation taking over. "What?"   
  
"Did you pack your ugly blue Hawaiian shirt?" Niall pants, bending over to catch his breath. His cheeks are ruddy, beads of sweat shining along his hairline.    
  
"Did you just run here?" Harry frowns, uncapping a bottle of water and handing it to Niall.   
  
Niall takes it gratefully, swallowing half of the bottle in one go. "Yes. Did you?"   
  
"Did I what?" Harry asks absentmindedly, rummaging through a box to restock some items.    
  
"Pack that shirt."   
  
"Which one again?"   
  
"The one I hate."   
  
"You hate them all."   
  
"Just the boxy ones. They don’t flatter your figure."   
  
"Aw, Nialler,” Harry pinches his cheek. “I didn’t know you felt that way.”    
  
"Harry!"   
  
Harry finally gives in, cracking a smile. Sometimes it’s so easy to rile up his best friend and business partner. "Yes, I did. Why?"   
  
"I saw someone wearing it!" Niall hisses, eyes round and meaningful.   
  
Harry looks at him blankly. "So someone else has a shirt like me. What’s your point?"   
  
"No, Haz," Niall shakes his head, emphatically. "No one else would ever wear a shirt that ugly. It’s yours, I’m telling you."   
  
"You know," Harry pouts, "my shirts aren’t ugly."   
  
"You’re missing the point," Niall groans, frustration lining his eyes.    
  
He’s interrupted from explaining his exact point by a customer asking a question.

 

\---

  
"Harry!" Niall clutches his hand, looking like he’s finally found the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Harry slurps down the last of his daiquiri, looking forlornly at the empty glass. Perhaps Niall can buy him another one with all the gold he’s found. "It’s him!" Niall shouts over the music, spilling beer in his excitement.    
  
It stains the black tee that Harry had bought along with his other purchases yesterday, so plain and boring, nothing like the outfit he’d originally picked out for tonight: black see-through lace, embroidered roses, his nipples and tattoos on display. He would have definitely pulled tonight. But alas. Bygones must be bygones. And he needs another drink if he’s to last through the party the convention is throwing.    
  
"Harry," Niall snaps, drawing him out of his thoughts. "Look."   
  
At Niall’s insistence, Harry follows his pointing finger, eyes landing on the target. He gasps. 

  
\---

The thing about parties at the hotel you’re staying at is that the distance to your bed once thoroughly smashed, is minimal. 

Louis is well on his way to being thoroughly smashed. Liam and Zayn had insisted on buying shots for their best man, which Louis gladly accepted. A celebration for learning different flowers. That and the fact that he looks  _ good. _ He knows he shouldn’t have but after ruffling through the stranger’s clothes and trying on a few that morning, he’d fallen in love with the little black number he’s got on right now. Sure it’s a bit big, but it shows off his chest piece and draws attention to his arse. It’s been ages since he felt good about himself and this shirt is doing wonders. 

He signals for another beer, when a finger taps at his shoulder.

"That shirt looks good on you."

Louis sighs. Even in the city of love, pick-up lines are still boring and clichéd. He turns around and just about manages to shut his mouth before it falls to the floor. He’s looking at an angel, the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen. Green, green eyes. Pink, pink lips. Lush brown curls. Black shirt clinging to a toned body. Silver boots shining on his feet.  _ Fuck _ _.  _ Louis must be drunker than he thought if he’s only capable of thinking in colour descriptors. He’s just about to offer himself up to this man, when an intrusive nudge from the sober part  of Louis’ mind reminds him that Mr. Beautiful had to go and use such an unoriginal pick up line. And originality at a bar is highly important for getting into Louis’ bed. No matter how drunk Louis might be.   
  
Gorgeous One isn’t bothered by the lack of Louis’ response. He continues with, "It would look better on me."    
  
Louis gapes, affronted. “The line is 'It would look better on the floor.’"   
  
Pretty Face’s obnoxiously pillowy lips fall open in disgust. "Don’t you dare just leave it on the floor! Do you have any idea how much it costs?"   
  
"No,” Louis tries rolling his eyes but it makes him dizzy so he stops. “I’m sure you have the answer to that."   
  
"Of course," Adonis flips his silky curls haughtily. "I’m the one who bought it."   
  
Louis stares at him. He’s not  _ that _ drunk that conversations stop making sense. Then it comes to him, like fixing the resolution so that the fuzzy lines of a photo sharpen to the point of clarity. He says flatly, "This is your shirt."   
  
"Finally caught on, have you?" Shirt’s Rightful Owner smirks.    
  
Louis was ready to apologise but he doesn’t appreciate the condescending tone so he goes with, "Fuck you."   
  
"On the contrary ..." Green Eyes trails off, pointedly fixing his gaze on Louis arse.   
  
Louis scowls, attempting to hide his bum against the bar. The gall. "Look Mr-   
  
"Styles," Pink Lips helpfully supplies   
  
Louis stops short. "You’ve got to be fucking kidding me."   
  
"I never joke about my surname. About a lot of other things but never my surname. Speaking of, do you want to hear a joke I just came up with?" Styles grins so wide, a fucking dimple appears in his cheek. Then one in the opposite cheek joins in.    
  
Okay. Louis takes a deep breath. He is not going to be sucked in by good looks. Abort. Abort  _ now _ . He’s going to return the clothes back to Dimples along with his ---   
  
Louis remembers the handcuffs and the whip and his face heats up.   
  
"Hey," Silky Hair says slowly, demeanor changing as his eyes soften in concern. "You alright?"   
  
Louis gives his head a shake. "Come on. I’m going to give you back your things."   
  
"Oh goodie," Large Hands squeals, clapping said paws together.    
  
Louis sets his drink down firmly, heading for the exit. He’s much too old to deal with this nonsense. The bright lights of the hotel lobby hit his eyes, washing away the drunken haze and making him stumble back into a rock hard body. Louis groans at the way a spark shoots up his spine, wrenching himself away and walking determinedly to the lifts. He’s going to give this Styles person his things and turn in and sleep away the night. 

Or,  _ or _ \- he could give into his aching groin and the alcohol running through his veins and just shag Good Little Body already. It’s been long enough since he’s slept with someone and he’s taking him to his room anyways. Two birds and one stone and all that. Styles seems to be on the same page, the way he keeps shooting glances at Louis in the lift.    
  
"Like what you see?" Louis attempts at flirting and righting the mood.   
  
"Actually," Sharp Jaw Line draws out, "you’re wearing the shirt wrong? Like you either button it up all the way or open them up a bit more."   
  
"I ... what?” Louis cracks, any hopes of getting some action dying out, the embers lying by his feet.    
  
He’s spared a response by the lift doors opening and allowing him to flee the lift and into his room.    
  
"Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like -   
  
"No, no." Louis quickly starts unbuttoning the shirt, clawing it off his shoulders and throwing it haphazardly into the duffel bag. He stuffs the odds and ends that had spilled out back in, zipping the bag up with flourish and handing it out to Fashion Elitist. 

“Um,” Receding Hairline’s eyes catch on something behind Louis. 

Louis turns around, bag dropping to the floor. With staccato movements he picks up the dildo, the one designed for male pleasure, and practically throws it at Styles. He hates the way his cheeks are flaming, how there’s a slight tremor in his hands. 

“You um – like it’s alright if you did – but did you use it? Because if you did, I can’t -”  

“No!” Louis’ protest is loud and embarrassing to his ears. “Of course I didn’t. I don’t need it. It’s yours. You use it. I mean, keep it. Yours. To keep.” He can’t bring himself to look at those green eyes or those pink lips. He still hears the slight chuckle. 

“I have a similar duffel in my room,” Styles begins. “It might be yours. The clothes are a bit small for me, though they look about your size.”

“Yeah, sure,” Louis ushers the man out, hoping to get this over with. 

The man’s long fingers are wrapped loosely around the dildo’s box, just carrying it out in the open for anyone to see and Louis spends the entire lift ride hoping that no one else walks in. Thankfully, they make it to the room undisturbed, where Louis instantly recognises his own bag at the corner. It’s unzipped though the contents are neatly folded, a stark contrast to how Louis had handled Styles’ clothes. 

“Everything’s in there. I swear.” 

Louis just shakes his head. He wouldn’t even know if something was missing. He hastily tugs on the zipper, groaning when it gets caught in a piece of blue. He pulls firmly to no avail, nerves and stress increasing every second he stays in this room. 

“Here, let me.” Suddenly, those hands are on his own, gently moving Louis’ fingers out of the way. They work on untangling the clothing from the zipper teeth, leaving Louis to do nothing but watch. “I’d hate to have these ruined. They’re such a beautiful pair.” 

“What?” Louis mumbles, mind much too jumbled with how hard he’s working to ignore Good Smelling’s proximity. His thoughts screech to a halt when Styles successfully holds up the separated clothing article. 

“They’d look gorgeous on your arse,” he says, blue lace panties proudly displayed in his hands. 

A mortification so strong, blooming from Louis’ very core and to the tips of his ears, encompasses him so, he’s left gawking at his underwear. 

“I’m sorry,” Styles rushes to say, tripping over his words. “That was uncalled for. Please –

For the third time that night, Louis doesn’t let him finish his sentence. He snatches the panties and stuffs them in his bag, retreating hastily out of the room and breaking into a run once it’s safe to do so. 

That is the last time he will  _ ever _ let Liam pack for him.

\---

“What is the matter with you?” Niall asks. Again. 

“Nothing,” Harry answers. Again. 

“You’ve been in a right strop since you got back in last night. You said all your clothes were in perfect condition. I don’t understand.” 

Harry sighs. He doesn’t expect Niall to when he’s having difficulty grasping exactly what happened. He thought Blue Eyes and him were getting along, bantering and teasing. He’d thought, after seeing the way Blue Eyes had looked at the dildo that perhaps the panties had belonged to him and not a girl, but clearly he’d read it all wrong. He’s sure he hurt his feelings. And he really wants to  _ do _ something about it. To fix it.

He just doesn’t know what. 

“Up for it?” a deep timbre reads and then breaks into contrasting giggles. “Clever.” 

Harry smiles but remains seated, sorting through receipts. He’s not in a mood to cater to the couples today, their happiness over zealous.

“This is an unusual booth for a wedding expo,” another male comments. 

“Yes,” Niall admits. “But there’s a real market for a supplier like us that wasn’t being met. There’s more to a wedding night, more to married sex than just the typical lingerie, you know. Sometimes couples like to spice it up and even if they don’t, the options of basic necessities are far more than what couples normally think about. We’ve got everything you need for fantastic honeymoon sex. Are you two getting married?” 

“We are,” the first man answers. 

Harry’s heart flutters, the way it always does when he comes across a gay couple. He steals a furtive glance at the men. They look good together, heads bent closely as they examine some body chocolate Niall’s showing them. 

“Here’s some of our own products,” Niall says. “Proper lube is the key to good anal sex. Our lube lasts longer, is softer on the skin, and comes in a variety of flavours and effects.” 

“Zayn,” the first man whispers. 

“I know!” the second one says. 

Niall continues, clearly on a roll. It had taken him some time to learn the ins and outs of gay sex and he’s gotten so good at it now, he pushes Harry out of the way anytime a gay couple walks into the store. Those poor men won’t know what hit them. 

“Take a look at this dildo, designed specifically for men.”

The second man makes an aborted noise and then, “Louis. Come here.” 

“What?” a third man joins them. “How much longer do we have to…”

Harry’s head snaps up. And, oh. Yeah. That’s definitely Blue Eyes.  _ Louis.  _

“Where did you find this?” 

“Uh,” Niall begins, confused. “It’s ours. We invented it. Well, Harry did, because he was frustrated that dildos didn’t stimulate the prostate enough, so he created one with an area right here, that fits right against the prostate and vibrates in different – “ Niall cuts off when Harry joins them. “Oh good, Haz can explain it better. Something about how it’s still universal even though everyone’s prostate is different.” 

His words are followed by a terribly long stretch of silence that can only be described as  _ awkward. _

“Oh, fucking hell.” Niall lets out. “You’re the one who was wearing Harry’s clothes. You had his bag.” 

“Yes,” Louis says, curtly. “If you’ll excuse me.” 

“Wait,” Niall insists. “Here’s our business card. We have a shop in London. Come find us, yeah?”

 

\---

 

_ Fits right against the prostate and vibrates.  _

The words played on repeat like a broken record all the way back to London. 

The Irish one had never gotten to finish exactly how the dildo vibrated though it wasn’t necessary. Louis had read all about the wonders of the dildo designed for male pleasure. He’d memorised the different settings, staring at the box in the hotel room in Paris. He can’t stop thinking about it, about the horrifying situation he still hasn’t told Zayn or Liam about. 

Can’t stop seeing Harry’s face, his eyes, his lips. His hands. 

Fuck, he needs a good wank. 

He turns off the shower and heads to his bed, picking up the bottle of lube the Irish one had thrown in with the business card. It glides over his fingers smoothly, smelling faintly of vanilla, warm and comforting. He fixes the pillows until he’s satisfied, lying down and making himself comfortable. Dropping his knees, he uses one hand to slide up his cock, playing with it until its hard and slippery, the perfect combination of friction and glide. With his other hand he reaches lower and circles around his hole, steeling himself on a deep breath. 

He can do this. He doesn’t need a dildo. He doesn’t need stupid pink lips and green eyes  _ assuming _ things about him. 

Two fingers deep, he scissors them, hissing at the wonderful mix of pain and pleasure that shoots up his spine. There’s a fine sheen of sweat clinging to his body, turning the shower futile. But he’s loathe to care, slipping in a third finger. The stretch is glorious despite the awkward angle and stiffness in his hand. 

It’s perfectly alright. All he needs to do is get the right pressure against his prostate. That’s it. 

He moans loudly when his fingers snag at their goal, rubbing insistently. His breath becomes laboured, chest rising heavily. He tries to ignore how his hand aches, how the closer he gets to his peak, the harder it is to maintain the perfect pressure. He tightens his hand on his dick, thumbing over the head rapidly, willing his orgasm to come and concentrating with all his might. He’s done this before, has successfully wanked himself into a delirium. He doesn’t need a toy, or another person, or lace underwear –

He wrenches his fingers out, frustration prickling at his eyes. 

He always does this. Always fucking overworks his mind until he’s thinking too hard. His hands are slippery, the pillow under his arse a mess. 

He needed another shower anyways.

 

\---

 

Louis’ got a list from Liam of errands to run since they’re busy at work and he’s got the summer off. He’s never going to work this hard for his own wedding. 

He walks out the printers, a box of wedding invites cradled in his arms. Stepping onto the busy pavement, he narrowly avoids being plowed down by some kids chasing each other. He takes a moment to regroup and readjust the box when his eyes catch on pink glitter and his foot freezes in midair. 

_ Up For It? _

There’s no mistaking the sparkly sign and the horrible pun. Before Louis even realises, he’s across the street and startled out of his thoughts by a bell on the door. 

“Welcome! Let me know if I may be of any assistance,” a familiar Irish voice greets from behind the counter.

“Thank you,” Louis calls back, quickly hiding among the aisles. 

He easily gets lost roaming the store. It’s classy with a subdued black and grey theme, shelves high and wide to give the illusion of privacy. There’s an entire section on BDSM, filled with teaching manuals to actual props. An area of costumes for role-playing, a plethora of sex toys that completely boggle Louis’ mind, a large rack of ‘classic’ porn. He’s still taking in everything when he finds himself in front of a column of dildos. His heart picks up, the pink dildo standing out easily amongst the other offerings. 

“First time? It’s easy to get overwhelmed. Would you like me to go over some things with…” the words die out when Louis turns around. It’s Harry of course, whose name Louis now knows, still looking unfairly gorgeous. 

“Hi,” Louis lifts a hand to wave awkwardly. In doing so, the invites in his hold start to slip and the box tumbles down. 

Harry surges forward to catch it before it falls, forcing Louis back into the shelves which shudders against their combined weight and knocks some dildos to the ground. “Oops,” Harry grins sheepishly, ensuring the box in Louis’ hand is secure and steps back. 

“’s alright,” Louis mumbles, crouching down and putting the box aside as he starts picking up fallen dildos. 

Harry kneels down beside him. “I’m really glad you came in. I’ve wanted to apologise for that day. I was rude and invasive and had had too much to drink. Sex is private and I crossed a boundary. I’m just – sorry.” 

Something warm unfurls in Louis and he can’t stop the small smile that spreads across his face. “It’s alright. I was quite drunk myself and a bit embarrassed.” 

Harry’s face falls. “I would never mean to embarrass you. Really. Look where we are: I’ve seen and heard everything.” Harry picks up the box of invites while Louis clutches the last of the fallen dildos. “Anything you want, it’s on the house. It’s the least I can do.” He casts a quick glance at Louis’ hands and looks steadfastly away.  

Louis sees the dildo in his hands and groans inwardly. Of course. “Fuck, no. I didn’t come here to buy anything.” He hurriedly turns to return the dildo to the shelf but can’t seem to find a spot for it. 

“Here,” Harry takes the box from him. “I’ll have to rearrange the shelf anyways. Just got a new shipment in today. You know, if you want to –“ He bites his lip. “Sorry, bad habit. I just promised to stay out of it.” He offers Louis the box of invites. “Thank you for stopping by. And I mean it, if there’s anything else you want, it’s on the house.” 

Louis nods, shooting him a small smile and walking away. He can’t shake the sinking feeling that gets heavier with every step, weighing down on his feet like lead. He stops abruptly, swivelling around to find Harry looking at him. “Is it true?” He walks back, legs shaky where he stands before Harry. “Does that dildo really work specifically for men?” 

Harry’s entire face morphs, the slight downturn of his mouth picking up and the line between his eyes clearing. “Yes!” He nods, curls flying every which way. “We’ve tested it on multiple men. It’s designed to follow the normal curvature of the rectum and the knob right there is big enough that no matter how high or low the prostate, it’s bound to fit against a part of it.” Harry pulls down the box that was previously in Louis’ hand, engulfing it in his own. “I hope that wasn’t too technical but it’s best to understand how the body works and how to,” he pauses, eyes darting over Louis quickly, “receive maximum pleasure.” 

“Oh,” Louis swallows, throat dry. “No, wasn’t too technical at all.” 

Harry grins, “Perfect. Would you like it then?” He falters, noting Louis’ hesitance. “Sex is an amazing, beautiful, and natural thing. People who want to and choose to have it, deserve to enjoy it and to not be ashamed about enjoying it. You don’t have to take this now, or ever. But if you think that this is going to help you in any way…” He trails off, green eyes earnest and sincere. 

Louis is too exposed and vulnerable, Harry’s words touching a deep, buried part that’s screaming at him to run. Instead, he shudders in a deep breath, exhaling heavily as he says, “I’ve never – uh, just, never – “ He flicks his fringe from his eyes, frustrated at how timid he’s being. This isn’t who he  _ is.  _

“Hey,” there’s a warm hand on his elbow and he feels the touch warm his body. “The first time using a dildo, or any sex toy, is always a bit nerve-wracking. You should only do it if you’re perfectly comfortable.” 

Louis nods, not trusting himself to say much more, eyes still fixed on the box in his hands.

“What about,” Harry begins, retracting his hand from Louis, leaving him cold, “I wrap this up for you and you just keep it. If you don’t use it, that’s alright. But if you decide you want to try it out, it’s already with you and you don’t have to go looking for another one.”

“Okay,” Louis says, surprised at his easy answer and the steadiness in his voice. He finally looks at Harry again, instantly pleased at the way the green eyes have lightened and the dimples have popped out. “That actually sounds good.” 

He follows Harry to the front where the Irish one is lounging in a chair, scrolling through his phone. “It’s you!” He jumps up to greet Louis excitedly. 

“Not now, Niall,” Harry hisses, efficiently placing the dildo in an inconspicuous bag and throwing in some sachets of lube. 

“Thank you,” Louis says sincerely, taking the bag from Harry. He sucks on his lip for a moment before blurting, “Is there a manual?” 

“Manual?” Irish -  _ Niall  _ \- asks. 

Harry speaks over him, “There’s one for how to clean it and store it. But um, wait a moment.” Harry reaches over Niall to a small black box and comes away with a business card. He writes a number on the back and then hands it to Louis. “If you need anything at all, any help, or just, like – need to talk. You can always give me a call.”

Louis blushes and takes the card from Harry. “Thank you. I appreciate it. All of it.” 

“No problem.” 

\---

Harry watches Louis’ retreating figure, the bell above the door signalling his exit. He sinks to the floor, giving in to his hammering heart and shaky legs.  _ Fuck.  _

Niall at least waits a full minute before he starts cackling. 

\---

 

In the two weeks that follow Louis’ impromptu visit to  _ Up For It _ , he spends an inordinate amount of time thinking about the dildo and not actually using it. It inches at an unceremoniously slow pace from the hidden confines of Louis’ closet to his bedside table. Like a child learning to walk, he takes measured steps of unpacking it from the box, feeling its weight in his hands, and washing it according to the instructions. There’s only one more thing left to do. 

Maybe he needs another week to work up the courage to use it. 

He returns home from a dinner tasting with Zayn and Liam passing the dildo on his way to the bathroom. The small rectangular card paper that accompanied it on its journey through Louis’ flat makes Louis falter in his steps. He picks it up, fingers tracing over the lettering, and before he can change his mind, he pulls out his phone and dials. 

\---

“So,” Harry broaches once he cannot bear the the sound of the ticking clock above the sink anymore. When Louis had phoned him asking to talk, he wasn’t expecting this. To be fair, he wasn’t sure  _ what _ he was expecting. 

“So,” Louis parrots. Like Harry, his gaze is fixed on the pink dildo sat before them on the coffee table, standing up proudly for the world to see. By world, Harry’s referring to him and Louis frozen on the sofa, commandeered by a dildo. 

“Have you –“

“No,” Louis cuts him off. “That’s why I called you.” 

“Right,” Harry mumbles, wishing his hair wasn’t tied up so he could at least run his fingers through it. He tries again. “You said you needed help and I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s bothering you.” 

If it weren’t for Louis’ fingers pulling harder at his jumper, Harry would have thought he hadn’t heard him.

“I’ve built it up too much,” Louis finally says, and for fuck’s sake he’s going to rip a hole in his jumper. 

Harry reaches over and stills his fingers. Maybe he crossed a line, but Louis was the one who called him over. “What do you mean?”

“It’s been weeks, Harry.” Louis sighs. “I’ve not been able to stop thinking about it, and the more I perseverate, the more impossible it seems.” 

Harry frowns. There’s more to it, he’s sure. No one’s ever that afraid of a sex toy, unless there’s more. It’s just not his place to probe. “Sometimes you just have to take the plunge and do it.” He squeezes Louis’ hands. 

Louis mutters, “That’s the problem, innit.” 

“Do you need me to… guide you? Encourage you?” He’s struggling so hard, trying to find some stable footing. 

“Like a cheerleader?” Louis asks, a hint of derision behind his smirk. When Harry doesn’t say anything, Louis ploughs ahead. “You’re right. I should just get it over with. I’ll do it now.” 

“Oh,” Harry coughs, really wishing he wasn’t touching Louis. “Whenever. Later or,” he coughs again, “now.” He finishes lamely.  _ Fuck _ , it’s really hot in this flat. 

“You don't have to - but if you want to - you could stay?” Louis' voice goes higher as he removes his hands from Harry’s and straightens his back. 

Stay.  _ Stay.  _ When Harry opened up a sex shop in hopes of making people feel more comfortable with exploring what they enjoyed in bed, he didn’t think coaching someone through using a dildo was part of the job description. Someone who was right fit, who he couldn’t stop thinking about. He’s breaking at least fifty different ethical codes and is on the verge of hyperventilating. If this is his response, he can’t even  _ fathom _ what Louis is currently experiencing, despite the sudden professional demeanor he’s adopted.

“If you’d like,” Harry croaks, unable to conceal the waver in his voice. “Would you like me to…” he trails off, his thoughts flying away from him faster than leaf in a gale.

“What do you normally do?” Louis asks. 

“Uh, I don’t normally do this?” 

“Fuck, of course you don’t.” Louis’ façade breaks as he flees off the sofa. “I don’t even know what I was thinking. Asking you to – stay. This was a bad idea.” 

“Hey,  _ no _ ,” Harry follows him, his own warring thoughts unified in his desire to tend to Louis. “You did nothing wrong. I’m happy to stay and help in any way I can. I  _ want  _ to.” He stands before Louis, reaching for the smaller man’s hands again, unable to stop holding them now that he knows how they feel under his own. 

“Are you sure?” Louis whispers, eyes downcast and shoulders hunched. 

“Yes,” Harry says firmly. “Would you like to do it here or in the bedroom?” 

Louis looks around like he’s just discovering where they are. “Here? Bedroom might be too… intimate?”

The words hurt Harry but he brushes it aside. His needs aren’t important right now. Harry steps back, gesturing at Louis to get comfortable on the sofa. He seats himself on the armchair across the sofa, the coffee table between them. “Only whatever you’re comfortable with.” 

Louis nods, tension stringing his body taut. A mask slips back over his face and he works mechanically, shedding off his joggers and pulling his jumper over his head. It leaves him standing before Harry in black pants. Harry takes a moment to admire his body; the faint hair speckling his chest, the toned tummy and thick thighs, the ink he wants to trace with his fingers and then his tongue. And of course, his arse. Suddenly, Harry desperately wishes Louis was wearing those blue panties instead. He snaps out of it when Louis’ hands falter over the waistband of the boxers. 

“Whatever you’re comfortable with, Lou,” Harry murmurs, eyes finding Louis’. “Only if you want to.”

“I want to,” Louis shudders in a breath, breaking the eye contact and stripping off the last piece of clothing as he exhales. Harry has to physically bite back a groan, though his own breath puffs out loudly. He closes his eyes for a moment, just to gather his wits. This was  _ not _ how he pictured the evening to end. He was supposed to have a beer and watch the latest episode of the  _ X Factor _ . Not be seated, fully clothed, across a very naked man who’s been torturing his fantasies. 

When he opens his eyes, Louis is still standing, biting his lip nervously, palming at himself. Harry can’t help it, he whimpers. 

“Sorry,” Harry stutters _.  _ “You’re just, fuck, Louis, you’re beautiful.” 

“Oh,” Louis’ mouth falls open into the perfect circle, his pink lips beckoning. A crack appears in the stone hard face, a faint blush speckling his chest. Just like that, the pink is Harry’s favourite colour and he resolves to shower Louis in praise through the night, to ensure he’s always pretty in pink. 

With some new found courage, Louis sits on the sofa and braces his feet on the coffee table so his legs are bent. The way he’s angled, he’s open toward Harry, his hole exposed. And Harry wants to  _ cry.  _ He’s getting hopelessly hard, his palms sweaty, and heart positively  _ pounding  _ in his chest. He feels like a fraud, so turned on when he’s here to help Louis, Louis who still isn’t entirely comfortable. It’d do him good to remember that. 

Louis reaches for the lube just then, drawing Harry out of his turmoil. “It’d be better if you were fully hard. Feels better that way.” 

Louis nods, abandoning the lube packet beside him. He returns to palming himself, eyes slipping shut. Though Harry wishes he’d left them open so he can watch the way Louis’ eyes change colour as he slips into the heights of pleasure, he’s grateful that he can now stare at Louis unabashedly. Catalogue the other signs his body gives off: the tightening of his muscles, the bloom of colour in his cheeks, the noises he makes. 

But none of that happens. Instead, Louis’ movements become increasingly terse and a frown line deepens in his forehead. His cock remains soft. 

And Harry’s desire to help surpasses any idea of arousal as the seconds tick by. 

“Louis,” Harry begins, waiting for him to open his eyes. “What feels good to you?”

“What?” Louis snaps, voice tight with frustration. 

Harry makes his voice soft, the words slow. “What do you like? When you touch yourself. When someone touches you?” 

Louis stills his hand, dropping his legs to the floor. He grabs a cushion on the sofa and uses it to cover himself, averting his gaze from Harry as he answers. He shrugs, clearly bothered. 

“Do you want to stop?” Harry asks. 

“No,” Louis glowers. “I want to do this. I have to.” 

Harry sighs. He wants to help, but he isn’t sure  _ how. _ He gives it another shot. “What do you like?” He repeats. “It’s just me, Louis. No judgement here.” 

His words seem to work, the lines in Louis’ face clearing slowly as he hedges, “My nipples. I like playing with them.” 

“Yeah?” Harry murmurs, concealing his delight at getting Louis to open up. “How do you play with them? Show me.” 

Louis’ eyes fly back to his, fingers tense on the cushion. “That’s not why you’re –“

Harry cuts him off, “It’s a part of it. I still want to see.” 

Warily, Louis drifts a hand to a nipple, eyes shooting questions at Harry. He starts off uncertain, fingers clumsy around the brown bud.

“Perfect,” Harry encourages, leaning forward in the arm chair. “You’re doing so well, Lou.” His words provide the spark Louis needs, confidence creeping into his movements. Harry can’t stop watching, couldn’t if he tried. “How do you like your nipples played with?” 

“I –“ Louis’ breath hitches as he tugs on his nipple. It’s starting to pebble under his ministrations. 

“Do you like it rough? Or soft?” Harry breathes, wishing it was his fingers instead of Louis’. Louis’ other hand lets go of the cushion. It falls to the floor with a quiet thud, nearly masking Louis’ soft moan, both hands now pulling and tugging at his nipples.

“A bit,” Louis stutters. “Like both.” 

“Soft as well? Someone sucking on your nipples, making them wet and then blowing on them? Biting them with their teeth?” 

A strangled groan leaves Louis’ mouth, his eyes slipping shut as he pulls harder at his nipples. His distress from earlier is long gone, arousal replacing it. His cock twitches in his lap, slowly thickening against his thigh. 

“Fuck, Louis,” Harry sputters, on a roll. “You look so good. I wish you could see yourself, turning yourself on. Your cock is so pretty, love watching it fill up. Can you touch it for me? I want to see how you touch yourself.” 

Louis’ hands fly to his cock at Harry’s words, pulling roughly. He only needs a few strong strokes and he’s fully hard. 

“Slowly,” Harry pleads. He’s not thinking straight anymore, doubts he ever was. “I can’t see if you’re going so fast. What do you like, Lou? Tell me.” 

“Head,” Louis somehow gets out, words slurring together. “Balls.” 

“Play with them,” Harry instructs. “Show me.” 

Louis does, slowing down his hands so Harry can see how he thumbs at his slit, the way he rolls each of his balls one at a time. Harry waits until Louis’ leaking steadily into the dark hair below his navel and his breaths become increasingly shallow. 

“Ready?” 

Harry’s words slice through Louis’ haze, his entire body stilling. Before he can stop himself, Harry’s out of the armchair and on the coffee table. He daren’t touch Louis but he has to be closer.  _ Needs _ to be closer. To prevent louis from slipping out of this pleasure. He reaches for the packet of lube Louis had cast aside before, tearing it open with quivering hands. 

“Fingers first, Lou. You’re doing so well, you know. Fucking gorgeous. So beautiful. Show me. Please. I want to see.”

“Yeah,” Louis holds his own trembling fingers out to Harry. He’s not nearly as relaxed as he was a few moments before, but he’s making an effort. 

Harry drizzles some lube out, the light vanilla mixing with the sharp smell of Louis’ arousal. It’s such a heady mixture, he grapples onto the edge of the coffee table to steel himself. 

“Legs up.”

Louis obeys his instructions and if Harry was thinking clearly, he’d scold himself over the rush it gives him. He’s so eager to watch that a flood of disappointment hits him, when Louis raises both his legs up, effectively blocking Harry’s view. 

“I can’t – “ Harry catches the whine in his voice and stops short. 

“What?” Louis pants, eyes falling toward Harry. Harry’s face must be revealing too much because Louis’ eyes dilate until the blue is a thin ring and he swings a leg over to the sofa, so his legs bracket Harry. He’s so  _ open _ and just right  _ there,  _ the crinkled skin around his opening shining with lube. Harry sinks his teeth into his lips, biting hard to stop the sounds that are begging to be released. “Harry,” Louis’ voice breaks, drawing Harry out of his reverie. “Please.”

“Touch yourself.  _ Louis, _ fuck, show me. I need to see.” 

Louis wastes no time in sinking two fingers into himself, allowing Harry to see the way the muscle gives to the stretch. Harry’s no prude, has had some wonderful sexual experiences. But this. This moment right now. Nothing has ever come close. Nothing  _ will  _ ever come close. Can ever compare to the small whimpers that fall from Louis’ mouth as he pulls his fingers apart, thighs clenching as he accommodates to the stretch. 

Suddenly, Harry wants nothing more than to watch Louis take the dildo. The dildo he designed, filling up the  most glorious arse he’s ever seen. 

“One more finger.”

The way he has all night, Louis listens to Harry, eagerly doing what he’s told. He slips in a third finger, pumping them in and out. His chest glows a rose pink, deep and flushed, glinting under the lamp light. His mouth has fallen open, his lips bitten red, hair mussed from how he’s been writhing on the sofa as his hands and Harry’s words bring him to the height of pleasure, and Harry - Harry wants to touch. He needs it like he needs air to breathe, water to live. To feel Louis’ skin under his hands, if it’s as soft as it looks, if his hands will slide over the sheen of sweat. His fingers twitch with the desire to be inside Louis, to feel the tightness and heat on his own fingers.

“Tell me how it feels,” Harry begs, his voice hoarse and broken. Fuck, he’s so hard, so turned on, he could come from a gentle breeze. 

“Tight,” Louis gasps, body trembling as he holds his head up to look at Harry. “It’s always tightest with three fingers. Hardest to maintain pressure on my prostate.” 

As soon as the words fall from his lips, their eyes fly to the dildo, still on the coffee table, upright and beckoning. 

“I want to try it,” Louis pants, confidence dripping in his words. He pulls his fingers out with a squelch that hits Harry right in the core, his head fuzzy. It takes all his self-control not to offer Louis his own fingers, to instead hand him the dildo. Harry watches as Louis grasps the dildo with a sturdy hand, a jealousy toward the toy burning within him. “Talk to me.” 

Harry nods, shakily exhaling. “Start of slow, yeah?” The rest of his instructions drown away the second Louis pushes the toy through his hole, a loud moan falling from his lips. Harry’s so overwhelmed and filled with throbbing need to do  _ something _ , anything, his own hands fly to his crotch, crying when he presses down. 

Louis’ eyes dart to where Harry is touching himself and he moans louder, Harry’s name echoing in the room. He pushes the dildo in further, body seizing. 

“Did you?” Harry pants, hand stilling. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.  _ Fuck,  _ Harry,” Louis chants, the hand not on the dildo flying to his cock. His legs open wider and his head lolls back on the sofa, chest heaving. “Turn it on, please. I want.” 

Harry scrambles at the  _ permission _ . His fingers breach the short distance to the dildo sitting snuggly in Louis’ hole, fingers struggling in their search for the button to turn on the vibrations. 

The sound that leaves Louis’ mouth breaks the last resolve in Harry as he brokenly cries at the sight before him. “Harry, please. Don’t stop.  _ Please. _ ” 

And he doesn’t. Harry leaves his hand over Louis’ at the base of the dildo, fingers turning filthy with the lube. He guides Louis’ hand, pumping the dildo in and out, switching the vibration setting at random, revelling whenever he thrusts in and his fingers brush against Louis’ skin. They’re both burning, covered in sweat, lost to pure desire. His mind is filled with the moans and high pitched screams that Louis makes every time Harry thrusts back in. Louis’ back arches higher, and higher, Harry’s name turning into a broken litany as Harry rubs the dildo in circles against Louis’ prostate. 

“I’m going – “ Louis breaks off, his mouth open, searching for his release. 

Harry gives him what he wants, turning up the vibrations to its highest setting, a constant, never yielding pressure against Louis’ prostate; and with his other hand, he pinches at Louis’ nipple. 

The image of Louis succumbing to his orgasm, mouth open in a silent scream, cock pulsing out thick ropes of white to his flushed chest, sends Harry tumbling off the cliff to his own. 

\---

Louis returns to the sofa, two steaming mugs of tea cradled in his hands. He finds he’s still shaky from his orgasm, the dildo clearly living up to its claims. 

Harry enters the room a moment later, a pair of Louis’ joggers exposing his ankles. “Told you your clothes are too small for me.” 

Louis hides his smile, offering Harry the tea. “Careful, it’s still hot.” He waits till Harry sits on the sofa beside him, drawing his legs up and turning to face him. “Find everything alright?” 

Harry nods. “You didn’t have to. Should have just sent me home with my come in my pants. Not cool of me.” 

“Oh fuck off,” Louis says idly, blowing some of the steam away. “’S flattering.” 

“Did you enjoy it?” Harry asks, resettling his limbs to mirror Louis. “Not so worked up over- “ he points his head to the freshly cleaned dildo lying on the coffee table. 

Louis snorts, feeling loose limbed and sated, the way only good sex can. “What do you think? Haven’t come that hard…” he blushes, taking a sip of his tea too soon and burning his tongue. 

Harry doesn’t answer him right away, lost to his thoughts. When he speaks, his words are careful, a small line pulling his brows together. “You know what you like, you’re familiar with your body. Why was it so difficult? What happened?” 

Louis tenses. He abandons his tea to the coffee table and considers avoiding the question. Or lying. 

A warm hand touches his ankle, sturdy fingers wrapping around the bone. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” 

“No,” Louis sighs. Harry had given Louis something he’d spent a year searching for. It’s the least he can do. “I was in an … unhealthy relationship. It was good outside the bedroom but inside… he just made me question myself during sex. Made me feel bad about wanting to be fingered. Brushed me off for asking him to pay attention to my prostate.” He’s embarrassed sharing so much of himself, things he hasn’t even told Liam or Zayn. Harry’s different though - he knows about sex. He listens and doesn’t judge. And his fingers are sure and comforting around Louis’ ankle. “I tried to explore different things. Wanted to. Brought a couple of toys. Those panties that you found.” He shrugs, forcing his voice into nonchalance. “He laughed at me when I wore those panties.” He closes his eyes, the humiliation still so strong a year later. “We broke up shortly after, but after that, I’d just – I second guessed everything. Felt inadequate and unworthy.” 

“Louis,” Harry breathes. He’s much closer when Louis lifts his head, close enough that he can comfortably wrap his arms around Louis, drawing him into a hug and mumbling into his hair. “Your ex is a jerk who doesn’t deserve anything good. I hate that he made you question yourself.” 

Louis laughs unevenly, only realising at that moment how much he needed to hear those words. He pats at Harry’s back. “Thank you.” 

“I’m serious,” Harry says, letting go and sitting back at the other end of the sofa. Louis wants to reel him back in. “It’s like girls who have stronger orgasms only if their clit is stimulated. Sure, you can come from some friction on your dick but it’s just  _ so  _ much better if there’s something on your prostate. Besides, it’s healthy to explore things you like, find out what turns you on.” He pauses, considering his words. “If there’s anything else you want to experiment with, come to the shop. Or give me a call.” 

“I will,” Louis promises. And means it.

 

\---

 

The knock on his front door is soft but it still startles Louis enough that his hand twitches and the twine he was tying around a bouquet of flowers comes undone. He sighs, abandoning his task and picks out a path through the strewn flowers and twigs to the front door. 

“Oh, hi,” Louis smiles, opening the door to reveal a bashful Harry. “Alright?” 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you.” He stops short, taking in the garden that’s sprung up in Louis’ living room. “Uh, why does it look like the Kew relocated to your flat?” 

Louis steps aside to let Harry enter. “Because it did. My friends who’re getting married – you remember them?” He waits for Harry’s nod. “They’re trying to save money and volunteered me to put together the floral centerpieces for the table.”

Harry laughs, “That’s a lot of work for one person.” 

“Zayn and Liam were here an hour ago. But they’re working tomorrow and I obviously have the summer off.” 

“The joys of being a teacher,” Harry grins. 

“Exactly.” He looks at Harry expectantly. 

“Right,” Harry jerks into action. He holds out a cream coloured bag, looking self-conscious again. “I was at the shops and saw this. Made me think of you.” 

Louis takes the bag curiously, lifting off the tissue paper. He comes away with a delicate pink lace, so soft against his skin, his arm breaks out in goosebumps. “Harry…” He’s at a loss of words. 

“I hope it’s not presumptuous. I just felt you needed another pair with better memories. And you look so good in pink, I thought.” He scratches the back of his head, toes pointing inward awkwardly. “Obviously you don’t have to wear it. Or keep it. I’ll take it back.” 

“No,” Louis rushes, drawing the panties toward his chest. He’s never seen a pair so beautiful, the pink lace intricate below his fingers. “I like them. Love them. Thank you.” 

The tension falls from Harry’s shoulders the way the panties flutter in Louis’ hands. “Good. I’m glad.” He chews on his lip, changing the subject. “Would you like some help with this?” Harry gestures broadly at the mess in Louis’ living room. 

“I couldn't ask you to do that.” 

“I’m offering,” Harry insists, walking further into the room, ignoring Louis’ protests. “You know I used to work in a bakery.” 

“What does that have to do with floral arrangements?” 

“Means I’m good with my hands,” Harry smirks. He pays for his comment by getting hit in the face with some twine. 

“Hey Harry,” Louis asks, when more of the flowers are arranged artfully and not on the floor, an empty bottle of wine taking their place. “When did you see me in pink?”

 

\---

 

Louis’ in a regular text chat with Harry Styles. It began with a genuine curiosity about what other lube scents  _ Up For It _ offers - because he’s a big fan of the muted aroma when other lubes go very much over the top - and it devolved into Harry trying out his joke of the day on Louis: 

_ I’m friends with 25 letters of the alphabet and I don’t know Y _

Louis had pointedly ignored Harry’s following texts before he’d gotten a phone call from Harry, begging Louis to forgive him. 

It’s just – Louis enjoys talking to Harry. He’s kind and genuinely funny when he’s not trying to be and offers Louis a wonderful reprieve from wedding crazy Liam and Zayn. He’s still a horrible fashion snob who spends too much time over how many buttons to leave undone, evidenced by the time he sent Louis two consecutive pictures of him with his shirt unbuttoned, asking for Louis’ opinion on which looked better. Louis’ response of  _ there’s a difference?  _ was answered with a picture of Harry’s middle finger. 

They don’t talk about  _ that _ night or the panties, an unspoken agreement since Louis’ now able to masturbate happily without thoughts of inadequacy and shame plaguing his actions. And if he gets off remembering the way Harry’s hand had thrust the dildo in him or how his voice sounded as he instructed Louis to get off, then no one else has to know. It was a one-time thing, a friend helping out another friend and since Louis no longer needs help, their friendship has moved past that. It’s fine. Totally fine.

 

\---

 

“It’s not fine,” Harry whines into the phone. He’d woken Louis up, complaining about Niall. “I told him McCool’s has dodgy beef and he still ordered the burger.” 

Louis yawns, rubbing his eyes. “Everyone knows McCool’s is only good for its lager. What was Niall thinking?” 

“That the Irish bond would save him.” 

“I doubt salmonella differentiates based on nationality.” 

“Try telling him that. Didn’t think about leaving me alone on delivery day, did he?” Harry grumbles. “Ah, shit. Customer’s come in. I’ll talk to you later.” He ends the call before Louis can say bye. 

Louis stares at his phone, still blinking the sleep away. There’s an awaiting message from Liam, complaining about how Zayn’s not happy with the band they picked and would Louis please come calm him down? Louis sits up, peeling the sticky sheets off his body. He could attempt to mediate between his best friends two days before the wedding or… 

\--- 

“Heard someone was short an employee today?” Louis greets, delighting at the grin that breaks across Harry’s face. He’ll never tire of the way his eyes brighten. 

“Business partner,” Harry corrects, rounding the counter to pull Louis into a hug. “Though I should demote him, seeing how he left me high and dry. What are you doing here?” 

“Thought I’d help with those deliveries,” Louis steps out of the hug, though not before taking a whiff of Harry’s scent, rich and warm. 

“I couldn’t ask you to,” Harry moves back behind the counter to ring up a sale for a customer. He hands them a receipt, turning back to Louis. “Besides, don’t you have wedding things to take care of?” 

“I’m actually hoping to escape them for a bit,” Louis admits. “Zayn’s being a bother right now.” 

“Thought it was Liam?” 

“They’re taking turns.” 

“Well,” Harry draws out, pulling at his bottom lip. “If you’re  _ sure _ you don’t mind, I could use some help with unpacking the boxes. Our lube’s selling out so fast, we had to double the order.” 

“It’s good lube,” Louis says, trailing behind Harry. “Quickly became my favourite.” 

“Really?” Harry asks, pleased. 

“It’s got the perfect amount of scent. Not overly powerful.” 

It’s the last words they share before the lunch rush sets in, people stopping in during their break. Whatever notion he’d planned of spending an entire day wrapped in Harry is solely mistaken as Louis sits alone in the back room, cutting through boxes of inventory and scanning items before he stocks them. It’s tedious work but it keeps him away from wedding madness and he manages to smile at Harry every time he steps into the store front to shelve some items. 

“Fancy some take out once we’re done?” Harry asks when Louis sets a new box of condoms at the till. “My treat for helping me today. Couldn’t have done it without you.” 

“Only if it’s not from McCool’s,” Louis teases. 

“I would never!” Harry gasps. He abandons his antics to lean his elbows on the counter, bringing his face closer to Louis. “Don’t tell Niall but you’re much better help than he is.” 

His face is just  _ there _ , lips a soft pink that Louis wants to reach over and kiss them. There’s not much he regrets from that night, except for not kissing Harry. 

“Lou?” Harry asks.

“Sorry,” Louis flicks his fringe, stepping back and putting some much needed space between them. He’s able to string together a semi-coherent sentence, saying before he flees to the back. “Dinner sounds great. I’m famished.” His stomach grumbles to emphasise his point and Harry shoes him off. 

"We should watch a movie while we eat. I’ve been craving some Hugh Grant recently. Notting Hill, perhaps?" Harry asks, voice getting louder as he closes the front of the shop and slinks toward the back. "Do your feelings for Hugh run as deep as mine? Do they, Lou? If we’re to be friends, they must. Because he’s just a boy, standing in front of a girl asking him to –“ 

Louis quickly straightens from where he’s bent over to pick up his fallen pen, turning toward Harry in alarm at the strangled noise he makes. "Haz?" 

Harry’s eyes are fixed on Louis' waist, mouth hanging open. He looks dazed. 

"Harry," Louis starts again, worried. "Is everything ok?" He reaches a tentative hand to the boy, which shocks Harry into action, making him startle back.

"You're - you," Harry clears his throat and starts again, his voice a ragged croak. "You’re wearing them."

"Oh," Louis manages, the sudden electricity in the room making him dizzy. He feels exposed, caught in the act, but instead of being afraid or embarrassed, a delicious thrill takes over. "Yeah, I am."

Harry covers his face at Louis’ words, fingers shaking where they hide his eyes. "Can I –“ He breaks off, unable to continue. 

"Can you what?" At Harry’s feeble shake of his head, Louis steps boldly forward, lacing his fingers in Harry’s hands and moving them away to reveal his face. His eyes are so fucking dark, the green crazy around the black. Louis’ own heart is beating like mad, skin prickling over heated veins. "Do you want to see?"

"Fuck," Harry whines, body jerking toward Louis. "Fuck, Lou, I want nothing more."

"Okay," Louis shudders out. He wants nothing more either. Wants to show off for Harry. "Let’s go back to mine yeah? Take out and Hugh Grant - and I’ll show you."

\--- 

He doesn’t know how they make it to the tube but that’s where they are. Stuck in a horribly awkward tube ride. There’s a thrumming undercurrent of desire that passes between them at the brush of their knees, every touch of their arms. And Louis wants to touch. Wants to whisper in Harry’s ear, maybe shout it in the tube, just how much he wants. But they’re in public and whatever part of their minds that isn’t lust addled is helping them maintain the decorum. 

The tube screeches to a stop that isn’t theirs, sending Louis into Harry, who ducks his head and whimpers at the contact. 

“You got it wrong,” Louis blurts. 

“Huh?” Harry turns to him with wild eyes.  _ Fuck _ , why is his stop so far away? 

“It’s ‘I’m just a girl, standing in front of a boy.’” 

“Asking him to love her,” Harry finishes for him. His eyes bore into Louis’ and then he turns swiftly away. 

The swoop in Louis’ stomach has nothing to do with the sharp turn the tube makes. Perhaps it’s best if they sit the rest of the ride in silence. 

\--- 

Thanks to impeccable timing, they round on Louis’ building just as the delivery boy pulls up. Harry resorts to the food, allowing Louis a few precious moments alone in his bedroom to – check himself over. He strips quickly until he’s left in the lace panties, aware he doesn’t have much time. He sniffs at his armpits and adjusts his cock properly, smoothing out the fabric so it sits snugly on his arse. He’s just about to throw on a pair of loose joggers when Harry walks through the door. 

“What would you like to drink? We forgot to order -” 

Louis turns around, tense where he’s standing before Harry in only a pair of lace panties. He knows the night would have eventually come to this, that had been the promise after all, but he was meant to have more time. Been more  _ prepared.  _

“Lou,” Harry breathes, completely enchanted. His eyes are roving madly over Louis’ body, his face so open and mesmerised, that Louis begins to forget his own nerves. Harry’s chewing relentlessly on his bottom lip, taking uncontrolled steps toward Louis. He stops when he’s a few inches apart, forcing Louis to raise his chin to meet Harry’s eyes. Louis’ too strung to breathe, to  _ move,  _ despite the frenetic beating of his heart, and they’re stuck on a precipice, both waiting for the other to make the first move. 

He feels the faintest touch at his hip, over the trim of lace and his eyes flutter shut. The room is still, save for the two fingers Harry’s using to trace along the waistline. Louis’ trembling where he’s standing, Harry’s maddening fingers sending his heart racing even more, and this is how he’s going to die. Waiting for Harry to touch his skin, to combust his body into flames. 

“Can I,” Harry finally breaks the silence, his fingers burning where they’re finding a path of their own on the panties. “Touch?” 

The laugh Louis punches out startles them, easing some of the building tension in the room. “You already are, babe. But please, continue. Want you to.” 

“Yeah?” Harry seeks confirmation in Louis’ eyes, finally letting go of his bottom lip to return Louis’ answering smile. His lip blooms a dark red and Louis very much wants to kiss him. 

He doesn’t get much of an opportunity though, because Harry suddenly drops to his knees, both hands clutching on either side of Louis’ hip. He hangs his head for a second, breathing deeply. “Just need a moment,” Harry mumbles. 

Then – 

_ God, _ he’s touching Louis. Finally,  _ finally.  _

If Louis thought the tentative traces from before were maddening, he was wrong. So wrong. Now that Harry has permission, he turns Louis so that his arse is practically in Harry’s face. It serves to embolden Harry, his fingers dipping below the elastic of the panties at Louis’ waist and at the bottom crease of his cheeks. He’s everywhere, alternating between sure rubs and soft teases, turning Louis into a quivering mess. Goosebumps erupt in Harry’s wake, the nerve endings on Louis’ skin shot from overuse but begging,  _ pleading _ for more. His eyes flutter close, relishing the way Harry’s making him feel wanted, beautiful, admired – and Louis realises he’s hard, so painfully aroused, his knees buckle. 

“I’ve got you,” Harry whispers, hot breath hitting his arse through the lace. 

“Harry,” Louis whimpers. He’s not sure what he’s asking for. 

Harry answers his unasked pleas, turning Louis around so Louis’ front is facing him. It leaves his hard cock, sticking out from the panties along his thigh, right before Harry’s perfect pink lips. “Louis,” Harry says hoarsely, a question hidden in the name.

“Anything,” Louis rushes, tripping over the word. “Anything you want. Just, please.  _ Touch _ me.” 

Harry makes a sound that can only be described as a sob, his hands shaky again where they’ve rested on Louis’ hips. He takes a second to dig his fingers in before promising, “Give you everything, Lou. Make you feel so good.” 

He remains kneeling before Louis, eyes wide and dark, his chest heaving. There’s a noticeable bulge in his jeans which sends a delicious thrill up Louis’ spine, the knowledge that he’s affected Harry by just being stood there in panties. 

Harry traces a now steady finger over Louis’ cock, which twitches violently at the sudden touch. He’s leaking steadily down his thigh, a slight pain from how hard he is and how his cock is still confined within the lace. He’s so fucking turned on, feels like he’s going to come at any minute, his breathing getting heavier with the heady rush and anticipation of Harry’s next actions. He  _ has  _ to close his eyes, unable to look at the hungriness with which Harry is staring at his cock, giving into the feeling of a sole finger that traces below his head, collecting some of his precome before it stops at the tip of his penis, digging in slightly. And then, Louis’ body is bare, bereft of Harry’s touch, and it’s his turn to cry. 

Harry moans loudly, forcing Louis’ eyes to wrench open. He gasps at the sight before him: Harry sucking two fingers in his mouth, fingers that had just collected Louis’ taste, and Louis stumbles back at the onslaught of arousal. Harry draws his fingers out with a pop, a cheeky grin spreading over his face, dimple deep and so fucking inviting. Louis wants to lick into it. 

“Shh,” Harry’s hands find Louis’ skin again, resting at the dip in his back. “I’ve got you.” 

Harry’s spine straightens as his hands simultaneously dip below Louis’ panties, cupping Louis’ arse between his large hands. He squeezes at Louis’ flesh, pulling the cheeks apart, fingers digging intensely along Louis’ crack, and he wants.  _ God  _ how he wants. To be filled by Harry, taken apart by him. Harry seems to understand the noises falling from Louis’ lips, moans and whines that would have been embarrassing in any other situation, with any other person. But they spur Harry on, give him the motivation to palm more at Louis, clench tighter into his skin, leaving Louis fuzzy. 

“Taste so good,” Harry breathes against Louis’ cock, the only warning before his tongue darts out to circle at Louis’ head, collecting everything he’s been leaking. With Harry’s palms still massaging dizzily at Louis’ arse and Harry’s mouth providing maddening heat and slickness on his dick, Louis’ feels the early waves of his orgasm starting to build, not caring how quickly he’s going to come. 

“Harry, I’m going to -,” Louis moans, cut off from his words when one of Harry’s finger’s brush against his hole. 

“No!” Harry draws off with a slurp. His hands are pulled away from the panties, leaving Louis bare and confused, so ridiculously turned on. Harry squeezes the base of Louis’ cock, staving off any release. “I’m not done with you yet. Only just getting started. Is that alright?” 

Louis’ mind is too much of a mess to understand what Harry’s asking, fingers scrambling for something to ground him. Harry finds his hands, entangling their fingers as he draws himself up to stand. 

“Hey, Louis. Look at me,” Harry urges, gently. “If you need to come now, we can do that too. I need you to tell me what you want.” 

Louis manages to open his eyes, the waves of pleasure having receded a bit, enabling him to sort through Harry’s words. He blushes under Harry’s intense stare but feels emboldened at the promise of more, of sex he’d always dreamed of. “Want what you want,” Louis whispers up at Harry. “Want more.” 

“Yeah?” Harry breathes, eyes carefully searching Louis. 

“Yes,” Louis reassures, giving Harry’s hand a squeeze. 

“Okay,” Harry takes in a deep breath. He draws Louis in for a crushing hug, not bothered at how their hardness’ line up. He brings his lips to Louis’ ear, warm breath sending liquid heat down Louis’ spine. “I want my mouth on your arse. Been dreaming about it. Want to taste you.” 

Louis’ head falls back at the words, mind going wonderfully crazy. “Yes, please.  _ Fuck _ . Want that too.” 

“Yeah?” Harry sucks a kiss at Louis’ neck, teeth nipping at the exposed canvas. “Will you come from me eating you out? Will you ride my tongue?” 

“Yes.  _ Yes _ . Want your mouth on me bum,” Louis urges, contradicting his words by entangling his hands in Harry’s hair to keep him sucking at his neck. There’s a sharp pain blooming from where Harry’s mouth is, followed by a soothing lick. He’s sure to have left a mark and Louis cannot wait to see the bruise that forms.  

“Okay,” Harry detaches himself, stepping back. He strips off his shirt, displaying an expanse of milky, smooth skin. Before Louis can even think of running his hands down Harry’s chest, the hardness of his abs, the softness at his hips, Harry says, “Hands and knees, babe. On the bed.” 

Louis hastens to obey, rearranging his limbs clumsily into a suitable position. He’s positively quivering in anticipation despite how exposed he is in this position. His eyes fall shut as he hears Harry shuffle behind him, sighing in absolute pleasure when Harry’s hands find his body again, running burning tracks along his back. He waits impatiently for Harry to peel off the panties, to finally free his aching cock. 

He gets none of that. Instead, Harry nudges him up the bed so he can settle behind Louis, and then without warning, he’s mouthing at Louis’ arse through the panties. It punches out a groan, so long and loud, Louis’ body wracks with it. He loses himself in the sensation of the roughness of the lace digging into his hole, hot and wet from Harry’s clever mouth. He puts up with it for aching minutes, body shuddering ever so often, the throb in his groin becoming almost too much to ignore. 

“Harry, please,” Louis lets out, broken. There are messy tears lining his eyes, his head heavy when he tries to turn his neck. 

Something in his plea must have worked because Harry peels the panties of Louis, finally, finally,  _ finally,  _ freeing his cock. Louis cries with relief, unable to stop the stream of tears. He’s wound so tight, feels so good. Nothing can get better than this. Nothing. 

Of course, Harry proves him wrong the very next second. He spreads Louis’ arse apart and stills. “So gorgeous,” Harry murmurs from behind, and then he leans in, attaching his mouth to Louis like a man taking his first drink of water after days in a desert. His licks are broad and sure, tongue strong as it pokes into Louis’ hole. He’s flying high, spiralling at the sensations that shoot along his body, positively shaking. He can’t help it, the way his head drops to the bed and his arms give out, but his arse steadily pushes back into Harry’s face. He wants more, always wants more, can’t get enough of it. It only bolsters Harry’s enthusiasm, as he licks and slurps at Louis’ hole, making him filthy with spit.

It’s so loud in the room, with Louis’ constant stream of noises and Harry’s hungry feasting, Louis misses the snick of the lube bottle, whining high in surprise when Harry slips a smooth finger into Louis’ hole. He teases for what seems like ages before he slips in another finger, opening Louis up so his tongue can trace along his heat unobstructed. 

“Harry, god, Harry. Please,” Louis cries, wanton and open. He needs to come. Hasn’t needed anything as much as he needs this. 

“Close?” Harry pants, the noises he’s making absolutely obscene. 

“Been ready,” Louis slurs, riding Harry’s fingers. “Now.” 

At Louis insistence, Harry reach around with one hand to swirl around Louis’ cock while he crooks the fingers in Louis arse right over his prostate, rubbing  _ hard. _

Just like that – Louis breaks. He comes so hard, releasing from the depths of his toes to the tip of his ears, shooting all over the sheets. The loud wail he lets out rings in his ears, body trembling with aftershocks. 

“Fucking hell,” Louis rasps, finding some energy to roll away from his come. He reaches blindly for Harry, who wraps his fingers with Louis’. “I’ve never come so hard.” 

“So it was good?” Harry asks, voice bashful. 

Louis opens his eyes, much too exhausted and sated to argue adequately. “Best I’ve ever had, Haz. Come here.” 

Harry obliges, grin threatening to split his face apart. His lips are messy with lube and spit, hair a fantastic mess. They lie together for a few minutes while Louis regains his breath and bearings. He basks in the ways Harry traces a finger through the come drying on his stomach, his gaze steady on Louis. Louis experimentally wiggles his toes, flexing his legs. He jerks away when his thigh brushes up against Harry’s hardness. 

“You haven’t come. Shit, I’m sorry, was so caught up, I didn’t even – “

“Sh,” Harry brushes Louis’ fringe from his forehead, his soft breath cooling some of the sweat. “Doesn’t matter.” 

“Of course it does,” Louis says, indignant. “If you think I don’t want to get my mouth on you, then you’re crazy.” 

“Oh,” Harry shudders, pressing a hand to his groin. “Only if you want to.” 

“I do,” Louis promises, mustering up some energy to unzip Harry’s jeans. He finds he can’t quite get them off, his limbs still too heavy. 

“Just your hands are fine,” Harry says, taking over for Louis and removing his clothes until he’s naked.

Louis doesn’t register his words, taking in a greedy look at Harry standing before him in his naked glory. He’s tall and sinewy with lithe muscles. And he’s  _ hung _ . Louis’ mouth waters. He  _ wants _ to taste Harry. 

“Fuck my mouth,” Louis whispers, delighting in the way Harry reacts to his words. It’s something he’s always wanted, just never asked for, for the fear of being shamed.  He doesn’t know where the confidence came from to ask now. He suspects it has something to do with Harry. He suspects it has  _ everything _ to do with Harry. “Please, fuck my mouth, Harry.” 

Harry squeezes the base of his cock tight, eyes screwed shut. It takes him a moment before he’s able to look at Louis. “Alright.” 

Then he’s climbing over Louis, taking forever to crawl up his body. For a moment, Louis thinks Harry’s going to kiss him when he stops with his face over Louis’. It sparks a yearning so strong, replaced by a disappointment that’s even stronger when Harry continues up, avoiding his lips. He doesn’t have much time to dwell though, because suddenly, Harry’s cock is right there. The scent of him is heady and so powerful, Louis can’t help but reach out his tongue to taste. They moan simultaneously at the first contact, Louis’ hands flying up to grip at Harry’s arse, pulling him closer. 

That’s all it takes for Harry’s restraint to ease up and he’s feeding Louis his cock, inch by inch until Louis gags. 

“Fuck,” Harry draws back, thrusting in slowly and stopping right before Louis’ gag reflex. He sets a slow and steady rhythm, careful in the motion of his hips. “You’re so gorgeous, mouth open for me. Taking me so well, Lou. I’m going to come so soon.” 

Louis digs his fingers harder into Harry’s flesh, spurring Harry to go faster. Harry gets the message, picking up his speed, thrusting quicker and harder into Louis’ mouth. Louis can’t help the tears from spilling, the spit gurgling as he relaxes his mouth to take more of Harry. He’s heavy and thick in his mouth and if he hadn’t just come so hard, he’d perk up again. The noises they make flood the room, Harry losing himself in every punching thrust, Louis whining for more. He can barely hear the string of praises Harry’s spewing, so wholly focused on having Harry’s dick in his mouth and being completely used. Harry’s thrusts get sloppy then, his weight heavier on Louis’ chest, and his fingers digging into Louis’ scalp. It’s all the warning he gets before Harry spills down his throat, voice hoarse and spent.

 

\---

 

“What’s wrong, babe,” Liam corners him in the loo. 

“Careful,” Louis zips up his trousers and sets about washing his hands. “Shouldn’t be caught alone in the loo with another man when your husband isn’t around. People might get ideas.” 

“Liam’s always wanted a threesome,” Zayn suddenly appears from a stall. “Told him I’ve seen your penis when it was in diapers. And that was more than enough.” 

“Damn right you are,” Louis says, fixing his bowtie. He likes how he looks in a tuxedo. Might wear one to work. Charm the kids into listening to him. 

“Li’s right too,” Zayn comes up to Louis’ side. “Something’s bothering you.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Louis snaps. “Besides, you have better things to worry about today.” 

“Nonsense,” Liam walks up to Louis’ other side. They look beautiful, in complementing black and grey tuxedos of their own. “Nothing’s more important than you. Zayn and you,” Liam quickly amends at Louis’ look. 

Louis sighs. Of course these two would have picked up on his mood. He’d been fine all of yesterday with the last minute prep and dinner, had completely forgotten everything else while Zayn and Liam exchanged vows. Unfortunately, once dinner was served and his responsibilities decreased as the celebrations went on, Louis’ mind began to wander. To the way Harry had been reserved after they’d cleaned up and started on cold Chinese. He’d begged away part way through  _ Notting Hill _ , citing a headache. Louis had tried but was unable to get him to talk. The last nail in the coffin had been the apology Harry had eschewed before he left, saying he was sorry for taking advantage of Louis. 

He’d left Louis completely confused and second guessing everything that happened, wondering where their signals had gotten crossed. 

“If I tell you, will you promise to leave me alone and entertain your other guests?” 

At their nods, Louis recounts the entire story. He’d laugh at the picture they paint, three men all gussied up, exchanging gossip in the loo of all places. 

“You need to talk to him,” Liam says, as soon as Louis’ done. 

“I think he's worried he got carried away when he fucked your mouth,” Zayn ponders. 

“You should go now,” Liam urges. “It’ll be romantic.” 

Louis glowers at him, the haze of love making him talk nonsense. “What I should do, is give my best man’s speech. Come  _ on.  _ People are going to think we’re really having a threesome in here.” 

\--- 

“And so,” Louis concludes, the funny jokes and embarrassing stories of Liam and Zayn out of the way. “They’re perfect together. In each other they found the courage to trust, to be vulnerable, to open themselves up. I should have been jealous, because in a way, my best friends found someone other than me who they could count on as a confidant. Really though, it was beautiful to watch, an honour, and a security that I know with a foundation as strong as theirs, their marriage will last the test of time.” 

He raises his glasses in a salute to his best friends, his words ringing through his head. There was a beauty in being able to trust your partner as wholly as these two did. And as he had shown recently, he too was capable of doing. 

“So, perhaps Liam’s right,” Louis walks over to the married couple. 

“Of course I am,” Liam says at once. “What am I right about?” 

“I think I should go talk to Harry.”

He gets two slobbery kisses in return for listening to their advice. 

\--- 

Louis thanks the cabbie, stepping out into the pouring rain. Of fucking course. When Niall had texted him Harry’s address, he didn’t think he’d have to wait at the doorstep of his house in the rain, hair plastering to his face, the tuxedo sticking uncomfortably to his skin. So much for wanting to wear it again. 

“Louis?” Harry opens the door, looking infinitely more put together than Louis in warm flannel bottoms and a Henley. “What are you doing here? Come in.” 

Louis holds up a finger, unable to resist quoting: “No, I’m fine. Come’s a point when you’re so wet, you can’t get any wetter.” In for a penny, in for a pound. He clears his throat, hoping to convey the truth behind the stolen words. “I’m just a boy, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love him.” He frowns, “It’s a bit difficult with the same pronouns.” 

Harry laughs wetly, dragging Louis into his house. “Come in from the rain.” 

“Is it still raining?” Louis makes his voice breathy, “I hadn’t noticed.” 

“Alright, Hugh Grant,” Harry chuckles, his eyes warm. “Could Louis Tomlinson come out now?” 

“Came out ages ago, love.” 

“Louis,” Harry whines. 

“I’m sorry,” Louis abandons all pretense. He'd worked up the courage on the cab ride over, yet he can't stop picking at his wet sleeves. “I’m nervous. You see, I was standing at the wedding, giving my best man’s speech, talking about trust and vulnerability, and Harry – I couldn’t stop thinking of you. I know what we have, what we were doing is unconventional. And I know you think you took advantage of me. But really, love. I’ve been searching all my life for someone who I could be open with. Outside the bedroom, but also, very much as importantly, inside it as well. Then I met you, and I found I didn’t mind sharing myself with you. I wasn’t as afraid with you. I’m  _ not _ afraid. You make me brave. You give me courage.” 

“Louis,” there are tears in Harry’s eyes, steadily gathered as Louis spoke. His face is so open, flickering between fear and hope. “I was so worried I was using you. That I pushed you too much during sex. I haven’t been able to get my mind off you since we met in Paris and then I started falling for you, but I hadn’t even told you how I felt.”

“Tell me now,” Louis says, cradling Harry’s face in his hands, pulling up flush with him. 

“I like you. So much. Give me a few more days and I could be in love with you.” Harry nuzzles into his palm. 

“So will you go out with me then?” Louis asks, pressing their foreheads together. His heart is racing but it’s a different kind of thrill. Less to do with arousal and more to do with pure, unadulterated happiness. 

“Yes.” 

“Will you kiss me then?” 

“ _ God, _ yes.” 

Harry draws him in, clutching at Louis’ wet tuxedo, mouth warm and soft and  _ sure _ as it moves against Louis’ lips. It’s everything Louis had imagined, everything and then more. 

“I’m getting you all wet.” Louis draws away, taking in a deep breath only to dive back in, tongue happily meeting Harry’s. 

“I don’t mind at all,” Harry laughs thickly, pulling Louis impossibly closer. 

\--- 

“So I might have lied,” Harry says, placing down a steaming cuppa before Louis. Louis’ in Harry’s clothes, dressed just as warmly and comfortably, his tuxedo dripping over Harry’s bathtub. They’ve not had sex yet, an unspoken agreement to talk first. Besides, Louis wanted to savour in the early butterflies of the beginnings of a new relationship, cuddling into Harry on the sofa. Those butterflies dissolve at Harry’s words.

“What?” 

“At the bar in Paris. When I said my clothes look better on me.” Harry gives Louis an appreciative look, doing a blatant once over. “They definitely look better on you.” 

Louis snorts, pulling Harry into him. “Nearly gave me a heart attack. And just so you know,” he gives Harry a lingering kiss, loathe to stop now that he knows what it’s like. “I think we’ll both agree that they look better on the floor.” 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed it! Come say [hi](https://backonefish.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Rebloggable Tumblr [post](https://backonefish.tumblr.com/post/166828765591/dont-put-out-the-glow-for-dimpled-halo-as-part)


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